


remember that time in college I found your handcuffs?

by egocentrifuge



Category: Mythical Entertainment, Rhett & Link
Genre: BDSM, Breathplay, Jealousy, M/M, Off-screen kink negotiations, Subspace, Tickling, and on-screen kink baby, off-screen polyamory negotiations, reference to the illustrious gmm 894 where rhett gets a boner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21570046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egocentrifuge/pseuds/egocentrifuge
Summary: Rhett feels antsy, wants to leave this entire conversation about the fetish gear he found in their dorm behind, but he still wants to know despite his better judgement.“Okay, the - dom? takes control of a scene. Why wouldn’t the dom just do whatever he wants?”“Because it’s all about trust, man.” Link’s face is open and sincere in that way he only gets when hebelievesin something; Rhett can’t look away. “The sub trusts the dom to make it good for them, and so the dom does their best to. It can be a lot of pressure, but it’s - good, too, being able to make someone feel safe and taken care of, you know? For someone to be willing to be that vulnerable…”Something in the way Link says it trickles warmly down Rhett’s spine, and he puts his beer down.“Alright,” he says firmly. “Fine. I don’t understand it completely but that’s - that’s fine. As long as you’re both happy or whatever.” There are more questions Rhett wants to ask, but it’s - too much, for some reason. Not just knowing weird kinky details of Link’s sex life, but the way he’s talking about it.It's twenty years before they discuss it again.
Relationships: Christy Neal/Link Neal, Jessie McLaughlin/Rhett McLaughlin, Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 5
Kudos: 68





	1. that time in college

Living with Link is, for the most part, pretty easy. Sure, the dude gets anal about the weirdest shit, but it didn’t take Rhett long to work out how messy he can let their room get without Link getting mad. It was kind of nice living with someone who kept their shit contained, put away; Rhett’s seen some of the other rooms on the hall and while he’d never say it to Link, he’s pretty sure he lucked out. Link puts his laundry away, doesn’t leave half-eaten plates of food laying around, and is just generally conscientious to the brink of obsessive.

That’s why it comes as such a shock when Rhett gets back from his calc class and finds - a disaster zone.

“Fuck, dude,” Rhett announces to the room, hoping Link will pop out from somewhere and explain that this is all a joke, but there’s no answer. Trying his best not to really see anything, Rhett scans their dorm halfheartedly. If Link is there, he’s hiding under some - some _fetish_ gear, and Rhett isn’t about to start touching any of it.

While he’s trying to figure out if he’d be pardoned in a court of law for not searching for Link for fear of cooties if Link is dead or dying somewhere in the general kinky detritus, the door behind Rhett opens.

“Oh, shoot,” Link laughs - actually _laughs_ \- and then he’s slapping Rhett on the back. “Forgot you got back early on Tuesdays, brother, my bad.”

It’s all casual enough that Rhett actually double-guesses himself as he looks between the freshly showered Link and the - yeah, those are handcuffs, and Rhett’s pretty sure that tassely thing is actually a _whip._

“What the fuck, man?” Rhett manages, finally. Link snickers as he tosses his towel over the edge of his bed and drags on a pair of boxers; it’s not Rhett’s freaking fault that he notices the blush burning down Link’s back and follows it to discover another piece of the puzzle. 

“Did you let some girl _spank_ you?” Rhett demands. His voice comes out strangled, which Rhett is pretty sure is reasonable no matter what kind of look Link shoots him as he starts to pack all the scattered _gear_ away into a duffle bag Rhett hadn’t noticed in all the excitement. It clinks like there’s metal moving around inside as Link shoves this and that on top; Rhett swears he sees a pair of spurs before he can’t bear to look any longer and scrubs his hands over his face.

When Rhett risks opening his eyes again the room is - _tidy_ , though Rhett’s not sure he’ll be able to think of it as _clean_ ever again. He avoids looking at Link as Link dresses, which of course means Rhett’s left staring at the freaking _sex bag._

“She ain’t just some girl, brother,” Link is saying while Rhett has his crisis, dropping down to sit next to Rhett on the bottom bunk. Rhett looks over and finds Link’s eyes distant, dreamy, and feels abruptly sick when Link adds a wondrous, “I’m going to marry that woman.”

“Oh, gross,” Rhett forces out. “Do me a favor and keep your extracurriculars to yourself, wouldja?”

Link punches him in the arm and laughs, and to his credit, doesn’t bring it up again.

It’s Rhett who can’t leave well enough alone.

He likes to think of himself as an observant person, and after he _knows_ something freaky is going on with Link’s love life, Rhett finds himself noticing - stuff. Hickeys that look more like bruises poking out from under Link’s shirt, shiny pink skin around his wrists like it’s been chafing against metal. And the thing is, he’s _met_ this girl Link’s so gaga over, interjected himself into lunches and dinners just to make sure she’s not secretly a serial killer or something. Rhett’s disappointed to find that she’s - well, _nice_ , for one, and for another - 

Rhett notices the same kinda marks on her, is the thing. Marks he’d beat up her boyfriend over, except her boyfriend is _Link_ , and apparently that duffel bag and everything in it belongs to _her._

Rhett just doesn’t freaking get it, okay? He can’t comprehend how - how hurting someone or being hurt or whatever can be fun, why two people who apparently liked each other enough to spend what felt like every waking moment together feel the need for… cuffs and whips and shit. It’s not like Rhett can look it up in the library, either, or find some helpful group on campus who can explain what’s so sexy about being tied up and getting wailed on. His only resources here are Link, which is not ideal, and _Christy,_ which is one hundred percent not happening.

It’s not that Rhett dislikes Christy - no. She’s sweet and she makes Link laugh and can talk him down when he gets manic. But combine the first girl Link’s ever talked about loving with a sexual confidence that makes Rhett feel like a virgin and he’s - jealous, okay? Jealous and bitter and so at a loss as to how he’s supposed to continue being Link’s best friend with this giant kinky question mark hanging over his head.

It’s when Link starts talking about engagement rings a six pack into an evening that Rhett finally breaks.

“You sure she’s even like, _into_ marriage?” he asks, the words tasting sour before they even leave Rhett’s mouth. Link looks up where he’s been worrying over his budget spreadsheet - because, yeah, of course he’s had one since freshman year. 

“What do you mean?”

Link sounds hunted, anxious; Rhett kind of hates the fact that he’d caused this but can’t stop himself going on, anyways.

“Well, you know. All that - ” He flaps his hands vaguely. “Kinky stuff, right? I mean, it just seems like it’s like, at cross-purposes to… to have and to hold, all that.”

There’s a silence, during which Rhett resolutely doesn’t look at Link. When Link finally speaks up, he’s - tense, angry.

“What are you trying to say, brother?” he asks. “Because it sure sounds like you’re saying my girl’s a - a slut.”

“What?” Rhett says, flushing. “No, that’s not - ”

“No?” Link interrupts, harsh. “Tell me you ain’t had a problem with her since you found out she knew what she liked in bed, then.”

“That’s not - ”

“She’s been with guys before me, so what? I’m glad she was, it’s made her confident enough to speak up about what gets her off. What the hell’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Rhett starts, “it’s just - ”

“Just _what?”_

“The - stuff! The duffel bag, the, the _fetish_ gear - ”

Link laughs shrilly. “You think because we both like being tied up that she’s not gonna wanna marry me? Jesus, brother, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about - ”

“I don’t!” Rhett half-shouts, flustered and exasperated in one. “I don’t understand anything about it, and I’m freaking worried for you, okay?” He reaches up to cover his face as Link gapes. 

“That’s a pretty messed up way of expressing concern,” Link finally accuses, sounding sore; Rhett’s not too proud to nod as he drags himself up to get another beer. He gets one for Link too, as a peace offering, and though the silence they fall into is uncomfortable, it’s no longer angry.

“What is it you don’t get?” Link asks a few minutes later. His beer’s label is half shredded and his knee is bobbing a mile a minute. Rhett stares at the table.

“It doesn’t matter,” he tries to say; Link scoffs.

“It freaking does, man. I’m going to ask Christy to marry me, I can’t have you - secretly hating my wife, or something.”

It’s true. Rhett hates that it’s true. He taps his knuckles on the kitchen table a few times before sighing.

“Do you just like, race each other to the handcuffs?”

“What?”

“You know, when you want to - to bang. Is it just like, first person to get to them wins?”

Link honest to God _giggles_ , and it’s enough to have Rhett looking at him, offended.

“Sorry,” Link lies, still laughing. “It’s just - that’s absolutely freaking crazy, dude, _no._ Can you imagine having a footrace to see who can lock themselves up first? Good gosh, no wonder you’re worried.”

Rhett swallows. “You uh - don’t you mean who can lock the other up, first?”

Link opens his mouth, closes it. Flushes faintly. 

“That's…. well, no, not really. If there’s ever a fight over who’s doing what, it’s more likely to be over - who gets to sub.”

“Sub?” Rhett echoes, mystified. Link bites his lip.

“It means submissive. Who’s like - in the submissive role.”

Rhett turns this over in his mind, thinking. “Why would you want to be submissive?”

“It’s - nice, dude.” Link’s voice is somewhere between defensive and sincere. “It’s like… simple. Either you’re getting told what to do and just have to worry about listening and doing your best, or you’re like, having things done _to_ you, and it’s just… calming, I guess.” He scratches at one of his red cheeks. “It’s nice. Kind of meditative? For me, it’s like - like everything slows down, you know?”

Rhett tries to put himself in that position and finds himself shaking his head, unable to even conceptualize it.

“But why wouldn’t you want to be in control? I mean, it’s better, right? Than being - submissive, sub, whatever.”

Link lets out a little breath. “It’s a lot of responsibility, domming - that’s uhm, being dominant, the dom. You kind of assume it means that you get to do whatever you want, but it’s not actually… about you, you know? If you’re taking control of a scene - ”

“A what?”

“A scene, like - like a scene in a movie, you do scenes with a dom and a sub, I guess. I don’t know, that’s just what it’s called.”

Rhett feels antsy, wants to leave this entire conversation behind, but he still wants to _know_ despite his better judgement.

“Okay, the - dom? takes control of a scene. Why wouldn’t the dom just do whatever he wants?”

“Because it’s all about trust, man.” Link’s face is open and sincere in that way he only gets when he _believes_ in something; Rhett can’t look away. “The sub trusts the dom to make it good for them, and so the dom does their best to. It can be a lot of pressure, but it’s - good, too, being able to make her feel safe and taken care of, you know? For someone to be willing to be that vulnerable…”

Something in the way Link says it trickles warmly down Rhett’s spine, and he puts his beer down.

“Alright,” he says firmly. “Fine. I don’t understand it completely but that’s - that’s fine. As long as you’re both happy or whatever.” There are more questions Rhett wants to ask, but it’s - too much, for some reason. Not just knowing weird kinky details of Link’s sex life, but the way he’s talking about it.

For all that he’d been flustered to discuss it earlier, Link almost looks like he wants to keep explaining until Rhett gets it, so Rhett reaches out and pats Link’s arm.

“I’m sure she’ll say yes, man,” he says. It feels like dragging his ribs across barbed wire, but it’s worth it to see Link’s brief confusion before a staggeringly sunny smile.

“You think so? Gosh, I hope you’re right.”

It’s twenty years before they discuss it again.


	2. that thing i've noticed

It’s yet another episode that ends with Link’s hands covered in food, which is at least an upgrade from his entire body being covered in food, but this time Rhett catches Link’s wrist before he can get a paper towel.

“I want you to leave it,” he challenges, eyebrows raised; it takes Link a moment to even figure out what he’s saying. He flexes his fingers apart and - and they fight it, stick together until he forces it. Link stares down at the strands of chocolate and caramel with something difficult to maneuver around taking up most of the space in his head.

“Mm,” he manages, more a sound than a word, remembering Rhett had said something. “I, uh.” Link tries to tug his hand away, but Rhett holds firm.

“If you can make it the entire More without washing, without wiping your hands at all, I’ll give you fifty dollars.”

Link tugs again, pulls against Rhett’s hand because Rhett holding his wrist in a firm grip is a distraction from the physical weight of the mess on his hands. 

“Uh,” he realizes he’s saying, one long sustained sound as Rhett stares him down and the crew titters. “I don’t, uh.” The words come out clumsy, sloppy; Link laughs breathlessly, starts to reach towards his glasses to adjust them, and freezes with another high-pitched giggle.

“I can’t do it,” he tells Rhett. “I’m not - pretending, man, it really - I can’t _think_ like this.”

Rhett leans in, reaching past Link with his other arm, and moves the paper towel roll out of reach. Link watches it go with a half laugh, half garbled sound of protest. He moves his free hand toward it, but only gets a few inches before the change in position makes the warm, sticky layer covering Link’s fingers that much more apparent.

“Ten minutes,” Rhett says, letting go of Link’s wrist. “I believe in you.”

Link squeezes the sides of his fingers on both hands together, then pulls them slowly apart, his neck tingling. It takes a monumental effort to look away from Rhett, refocus on what they should be doing. 

“Did we already do the wheel?” he manages to ask; there’s laughter from the crew, but although Rhett laughs, too, he still picks up the wedge and flashes it at Link in answer.

“Done with that,” Rhett says, smiling, making himself comfortable as he angles himself in his seat in the _watching Link_ position. Link watches him back for a moment before looking back at the monitors, trying to find the information about what they’re even supposed to be doing.

“Uhm, welcome to Good Mythical More,” Link says. It’s apparently not the first time, if the audience reaction is anything to go by. Link rests his forearms on the edge of the desk and turns back to Rhett.

“This is absurd,” he tries to argue. He can feel his glasses slipping down his nose and it’s another layer of torture on top of this freaking sticky _mess_ not to be able to fix them. Link tries to push them up with his shoulder, but that leaves a smudge against one of the lenses and they start to fall again immediately after.

The first shudder of _too much_ starts to work its way through Link and he swallows hard enough that his throat clicks. He wants to say that he makes sure he’s angled away from the main camera when he looks at Rhett this time, but there’s a growing static in Link’s ears and it’s all he can do not to say something damning.

Whatever Rhett can read in Link’s eyes, this time, it makes him lean forward quickly to grab his own roll of paper towels, start cleaning Link’s hands one by one.

“You’re no fun, man,” he complains, laughing, but Link knows the words are empty the same way Rhett had known the bit needed to stop. Link focuses on his breathing, focuses on coming back to himself as Rhett starts to read out the agenda for the more; by the time his right hand is more or less clean Link can take over to scrub off his left.

“You alright?” Rhett asks a few beats after he’s finished explaining the game. Link - well, if he hadn’t exactly heard every word, he’s thinking clearly enough to remember the premise when it’d been explained earlier. Is aware enough of his surroundings again that he leaves the question hang two, three beats too long before he smiles lopsidedly.

“Can I have a Wet Wipe?” he asks, to the general amusement of the room. Morgan is the one to lean under his camera and hold out a packet for Link off-frame when the game starts and there’s room to cut away in post to whatever image they’re showing. Link nods at him gratefully, ignoring the weight of Rhett’s eyes on his neck, and throws himself back into the game as his head finally clears.

–

“So,” Rhett says later, much later, after filming has wrapped and most of the crew has gone home for the day. Some part of Link has been waiting for it even as most of him has tried to hold onto the belief that it’s too weird for Rhett to bring up.

“So,” Link echoes, staring at his computer screen resolutely. Rhett is undeterred. 

“I think I should apologize for earlier. That last More we filmed - ”

“Nothing to apologize for, brother,” Link says breezily, flapping a hand. His flippancy is somewhat undermined when he rubs his fingers across his palm a second later to ensure that they’re clean, dry. 

“I didn’t mean to cross a line,” Rhett says into the ringing silence. “I thought it would be funny to watch you trip out and didn’t think about what it’d be like for you.”

Freaking _therapy,_ man. Link gives up his attempts to get Rhett to drop the subject and takes his glasses off, pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It _was_ funny,” he points out, because he’d gone to Morgan and asked to see his footage to get a gauge on how mortified he should be. It was more fuel on the ditz Link fire, for sure, but that was preferable to the way Link had _known_ Morgan understood what Link was worried about, even if Morgan hadn’t said a thing about it.

Rhett understood, too, Link knows, at least right there at the end. This would be fine - not like it’s the first time they’ve accidentally understood _too much_ about the other - except for the fact that now, because of _freaking_ therapy, Rhett wants to _talk_ about it.

“It wasn’t my place,” Rhett says, clearly picking and choosing his words carefully. Link closes his eyes in silent prayer.

“It’s fine,” he says flatly.

“But it - it was an altered headspace, right? I made you that vulnerable in front of the crew - ”

“It’s _fine,_ Rhett,” Link snaps, turning. Rhett’s eyebrows are pinched, frown lines pronounced. Link sighs and runs a hand through his hair, tries to speak in something less aggressive than a shout.

“We’ve been doing this a long time, brother,” he points out. “It ain’t the first time I’ve - ” Link searches for a phrase that isn’t explicitly honest and sighs, gesturing loosely, before finishing, “you know, gotten my hands dirty. And it won’t be the last, either. It’s fine, honestly." 

Rhett still hasn’t relaxed, and Link reaches across the distance between their desks to slap Rhett’s knee. 

"You stopped when I needed you to, man,” Link offers, so close to something honestly intimate that it makes him wince. “I trust you, alright?”

“Okay,” Rhett finally says, and though Link can see that his expression is still guarded, it seems more thoughtful than worried. 

“Okay,” Link repeats, turning back to his computer.

He tries not to think about what could still be on Rhett’s mind.

–

They make it a week and four flights. Link’s been doing a pretty good job not thinking about it, with the travelling and the live shows, so when he gets out of the shower and finds Rhett chewing his lip as he watches something on his laptop, Link doesn’t think much of it.

“Got you coffee,” Rhett says, barely glancing up from his screen to indicate the little disposable cup. Link makes a sound approximating a thank you and loses himself in it. 

They’ve been friends since they were six. There’s absolutely nothing weird about Link just sitting in his underwear on a hotel bed making appreciative sounds about arguably subpar hotel coffee as Rhett watches a video on the other bed. Or, at least: There’s nothing weird until the low volume pierces Link’s early morning haze.

_“Did we already do the wheel?”_

_“Done with that.”_

_“Uhm, welcome to Good Mythical More.”_

Link squeezes his eyes shut as he realizes what Rhett’s watching. He’d known they needed a quick turnaround for that episode, what with the holidays and the last of the live shows coming up, but it’s a bit freaking cruel that it’s gone up while he was still sharing a room with Rhett, right?

(For a moment Link misses the way it used to be, the two of them uploading every video on their own, knowing everything that happened on their channel and in fact being responsible for it, before his memory catches up with his nostalgia and reminds him of both how much more, _better_ content they’re able to make now, and processing times. Screw processing times, man.)

Rather than acknowledging what Rhett’s watching, Link goes on sipping his coffee and resolutely ignoring the fact that he has a business partner, that he’s not in this room alone. If he were thinking about it, Link would curse the frugalness and habit that’s had them sharing hotels their entire lives.

He manages to absorb no more of the episode than he did when they were filming it, mind aggressively empty for some impromptu morning meditation, but when the endslate ad is interrupted by the opening music like Rhett’s gone back to the beginning, Link has to speak up.

“Come on, man,” he tries without any real heat. “I meant it when I said it was fine, but I didn’t mean _rewatch it when we’re sharing a hotel room.”_

Link finally opens his eyes to look at Rhett over the coffee he now realizes Rhett brought him as a peace offering, or more likely, a bribe. Rhett’s fidgeting where he’s cross-legged on the other bed.

“It’s just - interesting, man,” Rhett starts; Link sighs.

“Oh, is it.”

“It is! I’ve never experienced anything like that, it’s just… fascinating.”

Link lowers the coffee and fixes Rhett with a look. It’s a look Link’s had a lot of time to practice, in recent weeks, a look that both asks Rhett what he’s trying to do while also implying that Link doesn’t approve.

“You know for all intents and purposes, you’re thinking about my sex life,” he tells Rhett severely, which makes Rhett look away, flustered, before Link ruins it with a self-righteous: “And I _know_ that ain’t true, about you not having experienced that kind of thing - ”

“It is!” Rhett insists. Link puts his hand out and snaps, the universal gesture for _I’m not freaking asking for it but if you don’t give me your laptop right now there’s gonna be a fight._ Rhett rolls his eyes but stretches until he can try and hand Link his laptop; Link types into the search bar one-handed without taking the computer.

“There,” he says, pushing it back towards Rhett. 

“The Jolly Ranchers bath?” Rhett reads, clearly skeptic, though the sounds of the video filter over to Link regardless as he abandons his coffee in favor of dragging on clothes. He’s spent too much time in his drawers, period, but especially if Rhett isn’t going to drop this subject.

Link tunes out this video, too, though for different reasons. He remembers the main episode only vaguely, but the More sticks out to him. They’d had to cut it short - not even five minutes - and as much as it’d been them trying out a different format, it’d been because of the dynamic. Kevin had described it like they’d been at cross-purposes, talking without listening to the other as they sometimes do, and so they hadn’t included Link getting Rhett out of the tub, getting him sat back down. 

To be fair, Rhett _had_ been talking a lot of nonsense, making Big Points from skewed logic, and Link had mainly been ignoring him. It’d been a choice on Link’s part, though, to steady Rhett with questions and innocuous praise instead of encouraging the manic jokes.

Link pads back to the bathroom to dry his hair before the video ends, leaves Rhett to whatever it is he’s thinking, and lets himself wonder for the first time what it is that Rhett’s trying to do. He’s on this - self-betterment kick, sure, but while that explains why he’d made such a big deal out of apologizing after nudging Link towards an altered headspace on-camera, Link still can’t wrap his head around why Rhett hasn’t just _dropped it._

Figuring he’s going to find out now, at - Link glances at his watch; _8:38,_ good gosh, their show isn’t for almost twelve hours - Link washes his hands and lets himself back into the main room. Rhett’s sitting back against his headboard, laptop closed, drumming his fingers on it as he stares at the uninspiring hotel decor.

“Right,” Link says, choosing to sit at the small table rather than his own bed for a sense of stability. Rhett’s eyes snap to him; Link gestures vaguely.

“Well? Something’s on your mind, Rhett, let me have it.”

Rhett runs a hand through his still sleep-wild beard. “You have experience with…” He trails off, and Link would laugh at the fact that Rhett isn’t even comfortable with the terminology if he weren’t so suddenly self-conscious, himself.

“BDSM?” Link hazards, cheeks heating. “Come on, man, I know we haven’t talked about this in a long time but I _know_ you know - ”

“Switching,” Rhett finally manages to say, his own face red. Link can’t help his incredulous little laugh.

“I mean, yeah,” he says. Again: not incredibly groundbreaking, unless Rhett’s been more successful blocking out those drunken college conversations than Link has. He wants to mock Rhett, wants to poke fun at this entire discussion, but with Rhett’s new _sincere_ persona it’s gotten harder and harder to deflect. 

Rhett takes a deep breath; Link mirrors him in self-defense.

“You know I’ve been trying to be more… vulnerable.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“There’s - I mean, the fact that both these videos exist says that like - it wouldn’t be too _weird_ if maybe, if…”

It’s only because of the subject they’re talking around that Link takes pity on Rhett, asks a question to fill the silence Rhett’s not able to fill.

“Are you trying to say you’re interested in doing a scene with me, brother?”

“Oh, gosh,” Rhett mumbles, but he still nods.

Jesus H. Christ. Link’s caught between laughing and panicking when Rhett forges on.

“It’s like you said - I trust you, obviously, and it’s not like submission is inherently a sexual thing.” He’s using _that_ voice, the too-loud, too-fast one that means he’s trying to win an argument before Link has a chance to get a word in edgewise. “Because it’s something you’ve been on both sides of, I feel like you’re, you know, more capable of guiding the experience and, and, taking care of - of anything that might happen.”

He falls silent sooner than Link expects and the two of them share a few beats of uncomfortable staring. Link finally clears his throat.

“What exactly are you imagining?” he asks, voice far leveller than he was hoping for. “If we do, if I actually run a BDSM scene for you, what is it that you want to happen?” It’s as weird to spell it out for Rhett as Link thought it would be, but if he’s learned anything, it’s that you don’t get to cut corners here. It’s still - he can’t believe he’s even entertaining this conversation, but it’d be a damn lie to say Link hadn’t thought about making Rhett _submit._ They used to fight a lot more than they do now; Link didn’t always have the emotional maturity to let it go. Of course he’d thought about getting Rhett to grovel, apologize, beg for forgiveness. It was always just - daydreaming, though, idle fantasy. Link wouldn’t do that kind of shit unless it was consensual, and he wouldn’t do that shit to _Rhett,_ period.

Or. That’s what he’d always thought, at least.

Rhett’s rubbing his hands together near his chest like he does when he’s nervous, caught between a laugh and this soul-baring honesty.

“I’m not sure about specifics,” he admits to Link, shoulders hunched like he’s trying to make himself smaller. “I just think about… you know, being in that kind of - headspace, that it seems like it’d be nice to… stop thinking so much.”

Link lets out a sound, a short, “Hm,” neither agreeing nor disagreeing with what Rhett’s said, before sighing.

“I’ll be honest, man,” he tells Rhett, “I’ve never been a part of a scene that wasn’t, you know… cleared to go sexual. It’s always been part of the dynamic for me, whichever side I’m on.” Link watches Rhett look away, hating the way his face falls but knowing he can’t push the truth aside and risk taking advantage.

“I can talk to Jessie if you like, or ask Christy to,” Link offers, flushing. “We’ve - helped other couples before, it wouldn’t be any trouble - ”

“Thanks,” Rhett interrupts, swinging his legs out of bed and offering Link a quick smile. “I’ll let you know, man.”

He won’t, Link already knows, but relief to be free from this conversation wins out over his frustration that Rhett’s closing up again and Link smiles back.

“Breakfast?” he asks. “I’m starving.”

“I already ate,” Rhett says, flapping his hands. “You go ahead, I’m gonna grab a shower.”

Link escapes gratefully, and if he brings back a plate of pastries for Rhett - well, it’s to pay him back for the coffee.

–

Life passes, for the most part, like normal. It’s difficult not to remember the conversation in that hotel room when episodes get a bit rowdy, when one of them raises their voice or starts giving orders. The third time Link finds himself telling Rhett what to do and getting momentary eye contact and _obeyed_ in turn, he talks to Christy.

She listens with the air of someone who knew all this already, tells Link what he’d figured out on his own, and gives him her blessing. 

It’s a strange thing, to look at Rhett and wonder _when_ instead of _what if,_ but it turns out not to be that much stranger than the rest of their lives.

It comes to a head after Thanksgiving around the round table of dim lighting, Rhett telling Link about how things had gone in LA while the Neals were back in North Carolina. He’s wrapping up the sensationalized version of the karaoke story Jessie had been texting to Christy as it happened when he drops a bombshell that most certainly hadn’t been in Jessie’s messages.

“The other couple ended up inviting me and Jess to a uh - a different kind of dinner, after,” he says, stroking a hand over his beard as he raises his eyebrows. “The kind of party that has a fish bowl.”

“Oh gosh, Rhett,” Link complains, already looking to Feldman to motion for him to take down the timestamp. Rhett lets loose the especially boisterous laugh he does when he knows he’s been inappropriate. 

“It’s just fish,” he says, giggling; Link shakes his head and tamps down a smile.

“Simmer down, Rhett,” he tells Rhett faux-sternly; Rhett’s eyes crinkle up.

“There was some of that at the - afterparty,” he says; Link can’t stop himself from engaging.

“You didn’t _go_ to it, did you?" 

"No! No, I just - ” Rhett shrugs. “Heard about it.”

“Oh my goodness,” Link says lowly, pursing his lips around all the things he can’t say in front of his employees, let alone while being recorded. “Let’s just - move on already. Good gosh.”

“How was your Thanksgiving?” Rhett asks innocently, leaving enough dead space for a cut. Link’s lips twitch.

“Not as exciting as yours,” he mutters, which makes Rhett laugh. Link only hopes they can stick it after the karaoke story instead of the swinger’s dinner.

It’s Link that asks, later, when they’re in the privacy of their own office, if Rhett and Jessie really turned the invitation down. Rhett laughs, but it’s not the same manic sound as it’d been in the episode, just honest amusement.

“Nah. We had the boys with us, and besides, it wasn’t like… a once in a lifetime opportunity, you know? It’s not like Jason Momoa was gonna be there, it was just a bunch of middle aged hippies.”

Link snorts. “I’m friends with some of those middle aged hippies, and I’m gonna tell them you said that.” He purposefully ignores the other piece of information that Rhett’s just implied for the first time, entirely because he knows it’ll drive Rhett absolutely up the wall.

“Now if he _had_ been there,” Rhett goes on, whistling low for effect, “we would have had to put an explicit tag on that podcast, brother.”

“Gross,” Link says, busying himself with his phone to sink the knife in a bit deeper. He gets as far as opening his text conversation with Christy when Rhett speaks up again.

“Jessie agrees,” he says, starting to sound a bit agitated. “We’ve talked about it.”

It’s positively cruel, but Link can’t help his mild, “Oh?” as he types.

“Oh, come _on_ man,” Rhett complains. Link looks up at him with a carefully constructed expression of polite non-comprehension.

“What was that?” he asks. Rhett grits his teeth.

“I’m telling you something important,” he grinds out. Link makes Rhett wait until he finishes the text the Christy, then puts his phone down.

“Then you should say what you mean,” he tells Rhett quietly, firmly. It makes Rhett blink, sit up straighter; Link stares him down with the giddiness building in his chest the longer Rhett hesitates.

“I, ah,” Rhett mumbles.

“Speak up,” Link tells him, still calm.

“I talked to Jessie,” Rhett blurts, eyes wide, clearly not having anticipated this. “About wanting to submit to you.”

He hadn’t been able to phrase it so bluntly last time, and Link has to struggle to keep his expression from morphing into a dopey, dorky smile. 

“Did she give you permission?” he asks, just barely managing to keep his voice even. Rhett flushes at the phrasing, at the fact that Link’s clearly open to the conversation this time where he hadn’t been, before.

“She did,” Rhett says, swallowing.

Finally, Link lets himself grin. He leans forward to slap Rhett’s knee.

“Great. Gimme a little bit and I’ll send you a link, you’re gonna need to fill out a questionnaire.”

Rhett’s face twists. “A what?” he says, incredulous. “Oh, come on - ”

Much to both of their surprise, he falls silent when Link crosses his arms where he’s standing over Rhett. Link’s the first to recover and grins.

“You just said you wanted to submit to me, brother,” he reminds Rhett, letting the barest hint of teasing into his voice. “This is part of my rules.”

For a moment Rhett purses his lips, unhappy, but it passes more quickly than Link could have hoped for.

“Okay,” Rhett agrees, finally. “I - I understand.” He’s breathing more quickly than usual, eyes trained on Link, and Link debates for a long moment before putting a hand on Rhett’s shoulder.

“You’re doing a good job of being patient,” he tells Rhett, because for all that there’d nearly been a tantrum Rhett had reeled it back in quick. It takes a bit of bravery Link isn’t sure he’s going to be able to muster to keep going, but Rhett licks his lips as he stares up at Link and Link pushes through.

“How would you like a kiss in reward?”

It’s mild, light enough to be a choice rather than a rhetorical question. For all that Link knows what he wants, now, he still hasn’t gotten confirmation that Rhett’s in this for the same reasons.

Rhett strains upwards for a moment before settling.

“I’d like that,” he admits, voice soft and a bit embarrassed. Link recognizes the tone, honestly always thought it was put on, but a hard look into Rhett’s eyes makes Link think that it’s honestly just his reaction to unqualified praise.

Link leans down to give Rhett his reward, not letting himself overthink it, get caught up in the fact that it’s their first kiss. He pulls away before he’s really ready, pats Rhett on one hairy cheek.

“Thank you for telling me what you wanted, Rhett,” Link tells him, smiling at the already dark eyes and shell-shocked expression. Rhett nods a bit distantly as Link moves away.

He gets a text back from Christy when he’s in the middle of chopping down the questionnaire for Rhett to what’s actually relevant. There’s no reason to send him a thirty minute long all-inclusive kink laundry list when all Link’s planning is a small scene. If this is going to become something recurring - well, they’ll have to renegotiate, obviously. For now, this’ll do. 

“Do you think you’d like to come over to my house on Thursday instead of staying late at the office?” Link tosses over his shoulder after glancing to make sure Rhett hasn’t run off or something.

“Hmm?” Rhett manages, then: “Oh - sure, yeah, that’s fine. For work, or…?”

Link laughs, swiveling in his desk chair to smirk at Rhett.

“Or,” he confirms, winking, then eases back when Rhett flushes.

“I sent you an email, go ahead and look that over and get back to me on what you think, alright? Don’t be afraid to say it’s not what you had in mind, either, but - good gosh, man, at least wait ‘til tonight.”

Rhett puts his phone back down, guilty; Link revels in his answering swell of fondness and anticipation. 

He’d always wondered, of course, what it’d take to get Rhett to submit to him. Turns out, all he needed to do was ask.


	3. that thing i want

Truth be told, Rhett is… anxious. Not - not anxious enough not to do this, just. Well, you know someone for thirty five years, you tend to know a lot about them. Rhett’s known that Link was into the whole whips and chains stuff for a good twenty years, now, but he’s never quite managed to reconcile the fussy, reckless boy whose side he grew up by with the level of care and deliberation Rhett understands BDSM calls for. 

I mean - Rhett believes Link can do it, obviously. Otherwise he and Chris wouldn’t still be - whatever. It’s just a much different role than Rhett casts Link in.

“Can we reschedule?” Rhett asks Link twenty minutes before the end of the workday Thursday. Link turns from his computer to look at Rhett with a frown Rhett recognizes as the _I heard you but I’m still processing what it is that you said_ expression.

Sure enough: “What?” Link says, then a few seconds later, “Do you mean coming over to my place? Why, you got something else going on?”

What Rhett means to do is lie, buy himself enough time to get his thoughts in order. What he says instead is, “I’m having second thoughts about all this.”

Rhett’s used to Link being impulsive, reactionary, short-tempered. He doesn’t expect for Link to lean towards Rhett, settling his elbows on his knees, and say: “That’s okay. Can you talk me through what you’re feeling?" 

The sentence could have been plucked straight out of one of Rhett’s therapy sessions. It’s oddly settling, actually - taps into the part of Rhett he’s been training to do just that, interpret his emotions rather than just his thoughts. That doesn’t mean it’s any easier to figure out what it is that’s going on, but in deference to the fact that Link’s smiling at Rhett encouragingly, Rhett gives it a shot.

"I’m worried, I think about whether this is a mistake. It - it’s strange, right?” Rhett glances at Link, then away. “It’s in a completely different realm of intimacy, especially for us, and it’s already crossing lines into something sexual, and if that’s going to be where things head shouldn’t we - I don’t know, man, thirty five years and the first time is going to be a _scene?”_

There’s silence after Rhett finishes, but when Rhett risks looking at Link, it seems like Link’s just absorbing what Rhett’s said and processing it. Rhett tries not to squirm as Link thinks it over, doesn’t let himself announce that it doesn’t matter and he’s fine and they should just do it anyways. 

Finally Link runs a hand through his hair and sits up.

“It’s, y'know, our first time doing… anything together, like this, and I think having the structure of a scene is comforting, right? You don’t have to worry about all the expectations you have or fight with any indecision because it’s not gonna be you calling the shots.” Link’s expression is thoughtful, almost wary. “I’m not trying to tell you what you’re feeling or why,” he goes on gently. “I’m just guessing at it based on what I think I’d be feeling in your position. If you don’t agree - ”

“No,” Rhett interrupts, then has to clear his throat to continue. “No, I - I think you’re right." 

Link nods to himself. "Okay. So are you having second thoughts about uh, being - intimate with me?”

“No,” Rhett says, cheeks heating. That ship sailed longer ago than he cares to admit. Link’s lips twitch like he understands what Rhett’s left unsaid.

“Is it submission, then? There’s no shame in that, brother. There’s plenty of taboos against it, especially for men, not the mention the entire…” Link gestures between them meaningfully, but Rhett cuts him off before he can elaborate.

“What if I’m bad at it?” he blurts. “I always overthink things, and - ” Rhett laughs self-deprecatingly. “I’ve been thinking about this since I found out you were into it. All I can imagine is how awkward and horrible it’s going to be if - if it doesn’t work, if I can’t stop thinking long enough to get into it.”

Rhett’s wrapped his headphone cord around his fingers as he spoke, anxious and uncomfortable admitting what he was worried about. It doesn’t come as a surprise when Link’s first words are scolding. 

“Stop doing that with your headphones, Rhett. You’re going to mess up the cable,” he says; Rhett sighs as he untangles himself, then has to bring up his hands when Link tosses something at Rhett. He catches it reflexively even with his brain as scattered as it is. 

“Nice. Still got it, man.”

Link’s voice is warm, teasing, and despite it coming out of left field, Rhett gets a warm little rush of pleasure at the acknowledgement. He only knows his cheeks are round with the start of a smile when Link stands up abruptly and comes over to put his hands on them. Rhett’s heart judders in his chest.

“Don’t move,” Link tells him, smiling, and Rhett freezes just in time for Link to lean down and kiss him. Link’s keys dig into Rhett’s palm as he clenches around them in surprise, in an attempt not to immediately grab at Link to hold him where he is. He’s rewarded with Link’s fingers trailing through his beard, down his neck; Rhett has goosebumps by the time Link pulls back.

They’ve been this close before, Link’s eyes so blue and right _there,_ their noses bumping, breath mingling between them. But Link’s just kissed Rhett, and his hands are still on Rhett’s neck, and Rhett’s head is a kaleidoscope of silent fireworks making him tremble in anticipation of the _boom._

Link strokes his thumbs across Rhett’s fluttering pulse and smiles at him.

“Go ahead and collect your things, then go and start my car. You’re gonna drive us to my place after I grab something here at the office.” Link’s got gray in his eyelashes; did Rhett already know that? It’s entrancing.

“I want you to be ready to drive when I join you, alright? Seat and mirrors adjusted and good to go.”

“Okay,” Rhett agrees readily, hoping it’ll score him another kiss. He feels like a mastermind when Link nuzzles the tip of his nose against Rhett’s before leaning in again. This time it’s slower, sweeter; Rhett only remembers that Link had told him not to move when the wrist of the hand not holding Link’s keys is grabbed and moved back from where it’d drifted to Link’s waist. Link releases it after a moment, but Rhett keeps it in his lap this time to maximize the chances Link will keep kissing him.

It’s both a lifetime and not long enough later when Link steps back. Rhett stares at him - which is nothing new, really, but with everything swirling in Rhett’s chest he can only imagine what his face must look like. Still, he can’t help but drink Link in. As long as Rhett can remember he’s been there, beside Rhett, but has he ever looked this vibrant? Has his smile ever made Rhett feel like _this?_

“You still worried about overthinking?” Link asks with a little laugh that sparks along every one of Rhett’s nerves; Rhett flushes.

“Shut up,” he manages, going to stand, then hesitates. “Can I…” Rhett stops before he finishes the question, asks for _permission_ to stand up to do as he’s told.

“Yeah,” Link says, grinning, and Rhett can’t bring himself to be embarrassed about wanting to keep that same expression on Link’s face for the rest of their lives. “Get your stuff. I’ll meet you at the car.”

–

Rhett would be the first to admit that he’s had many misconceptions over the years. He’s doing his best to correct them, because that’s the kind of thing that’s important to him, but apparently he hadn’t done enough digging when it came to BDSM. Because when they get to the Neal household - empty save them, Rhett having found out upon getting home the day Link invited him over that Christy had asked to come over and bring what kids didn’t already have plans - things are… normal, almost.

Link makes Rhett take off his shoes and jacket at the door after fussing about the way he was parking, makes sure he puts the keys in the designated bowl. Sure, Rhett realizes only after Link thanks him that Link had handed Rhett his jacket to hang up without mentioning it, and that Rhett had done it without thinking, but that’s - that’s just courtesy, right? Even if it sends a nice warm flush of pleasure down Rhett’s spine when Link smiles at him on their way to the kitchen.

Rhett had thought what happened at the office was a preview of the scene, a way of settling Rhett’s nerves and assuaging his fears until they got to the main event. But as Link starts to direct him around the kitchen, he has enough time to wonder if the scene ever really stopped.

On the surface level it’s not all that dissimilar to what Rhett would do any time he was cooking with Jessie. Link asks him to get out ingredients, measure, chop. Moves behind him with little warning touches on his arms or his back. But it's… it’s not, it’s not just that. It’s the way Link praises Rhett as he watches him slice vegetables, tells him he’s doing a good job. It’s the hand that trails down Rhett’s spine as he’s sauteing. 

It’s, ultimately, Link taking Rhett’s chin and tilting it how he wants it, his voice low and honeyed on a quiet, “Look at you, Rhett, making dinner for us.” Rhett closes his eyes to savor the kiss Link gives him, the first he’s bestowed on Rhett since the office. Rhett still hasn’t adjusted to the fact that Link’s the first new person Rhett’s kissed for twenty freaking years, and that it’s so markedly different that it’s making him remember just what makes kissing his wife so special.

He’s dazed enough when Link pulls back that it takes him a moment to realize Link’s navigated them out of the kitchen, into the den.

“Sit down, Rhett,” Link tells him, hands guiding Rhett as he starts to obey, but instead of the couch, Link pushes Rhett past it, to the floor. Rhett worries about his back until his ass hits a pillow and he realizes Link’s made him a little seat down there, and then he just laughs.

“What?” Link demands, but his lips are twitching. 

“I just feel ridiculous,” Rhett admits. He’s a big man, and there’s a lot of leg to stretch out in front of him. 

Link’s still smiling when he comes closer, close enough finally to be able to cup the back of Rhett’s head. Rhett’s pulse is racing even before Link guides Rhett’s face towards the front of his joggers, presses Rhett’s cheek against his hip. Rhett’s not touching any part of Link’s dick, but the position is - it’s. Well.

“I like you down there,” Link says softly, mildly.

“Oh.” Rhett swallows. He can’t think of anything else to say. The position, paired with the horrible temptation to inhale deeply to see if he can smell Link, really is… quite affecting. Link’s eyes are boring into his as the seconds tick by until, finally, Link scratches at Rhett’s scalp and lets go.

“I’m going to go get us some of that nice grub you cooked up. Would you like a La Croix?”

“Yes, please.”

They eat just like that, Rhett on the floor, Link sitting behind him with his legs on either side of Rhett’s shoulders. It’s not really a meal, in that they don’t speak beyond simple questions/answers, more… just eating, consuming, completing a task. It makes Rhett’s neck prickle to know that Link’s sat behind him, that Rhett’s sitting on the _ground_ , that Link’s thighs are on either side of his head. It’s all he can think about, in fact, and by the time Rhett scarfs his entire plate down it’s enough that he’s ready to twitch out of his skin.

“You alright?” Link asks as Rhett’s knuckles creak on his empty plate.

“Yeah,” Rhett says, then after a moment to think better of it, “just, I’m getting antsy. Sorry.”

One of Link’s hands lands in Rhett’s hair, strokes through the curls.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Link soothes. “Come on, give that here, let me help you up.”

“You’re not done - ”

“I can eat later, don’t worry.”

The dishes end up on the coffee table as Rhett and Link combine forces to get Rhett off of the floor. They’re both laughing by the time Rhett’s up, and the feeling of kissing through their smiles goes a long way towards settling Rhett’s nerves.

“You think you’re ready to get started?” Link asks through one last peck. Rhett can’t stop from raising his eyebrows.

“If we weren’t already started, why the hell did I eat dinner on the floor?”

Link’s grin turns impish. 

“Wanted to give you a test drive, brother, and besides.” Link starts backing away towards the stairs, one hand extended towards Rhett in invitation. “I wasn’t lying. I’ve always liked the look of you on the ground.”

“Always?” Rhett challenges, following after Link. Link stops on the first step still with that half-smirk in place. They’re almost eye-level, like this, and Link takes advantage of it to kiss Rhett’s forehead.

“Good boys don’t fish,” he says. He pats Rhett’s cheek. “Go on up. I’ll be right there.”

When Link steps into the bedroom that Rhett’s been carefully not snooping in a few minutes later, he has his bag slung over one shoulder. He grins at Rhett standing around idly.

“Whip that shirt off, lay down on the bed.”

It’s a weird mix of what a doctor might say and the kind of shit they toss around for laughs, so as Rhett obeys he’s chuckling, relaxed. This entire evening has been a series of steps forward then easing back, and Rhett appreciates the opportunity to get his toes wet, so to speak.

“Here, give me your wrist,” Link says from where he’s been fiddling with the headboard. Rhett looks over, eyebrows raised.

“Oh gosh,” he manages. “Y'all really - ” Rhett cuts himself off with a laugh as Link waggles his eyebrows, every inch the college kid whose sex toys Rhett had stumbled upon. When Link slides the cuff over Rhett’s hand, it velcros instead of locks, but Rhett honestly appreciates the softness. 

“I know you read what I sent you,” Link says as he straps in Rhett’s other wrist, then moves down the bed and carefully does the same to Rhett’s ankles. “Tell me about the stoplight system.”

“Red takes the place of the safeword to stop the scene completely, yellow means that activity needs to stop but the scene can continue, and green means I’m good to keep going if you ask my color.”

“Good,” Link says, stroking up Rhett’s ankle gently, and - yeah, there’s that same zing of pleasure, intensified now that Rhett’s spread out and restrained on Link’s bed. Link keeps talking as he moves around the bed to his bag, lifts it up to place between Rhett’s splayed legs.

“I want you to remember those colors, alright? I’m not saying we’re getting too crazy, tonight, but - you might say _stop_ and I might decide not to listen.”

Rhett flexes his hands, suddenly nervous. Link had sent him about twenty questions to gauge his interest in various things, and though various pain stuff had been on there, Rhett hadn’t thought that this would be how Link would choose to break him in.

Rhett’s torn from his thoughts when the bed dips and Link’s suddenly knee-walking up the bed to straddle Rhett’s hips. He’s holding - 

The laugh starts in Rhett’s belly and courses through him, leaves him breathless. 

“The tickle fingers?” he finally manages; Link’s smile is wide and fond.

“You’re laughing now,” Link teases. 

“I think I’ll be laughing later, too,” Rhett starts to point out, but then Link’s placing the little massage bot that had gotten Rhett so badly a few years back in the center of Rhett’s chest. The plastic little click of the power button cuts Rhett’s joke off in favor of an embarrassing little squeal that makes Link laugh where he’s astride Rhett.

It’s just as intense as Rhett remembers - moreso, because of all the places he’s restrained. It’s not just the muscles in his chest that are jumping, it’s the ones in his arms where he’s trying reflexively to curl in, his thighs where he’s to bring his legs up.

“Now, Rhett,” Link says, voice low and devastatingly warm as Rhett giggles and squirms. “Do you remember what I was telling you, about how I might not stop if you ask me to?”

“Yes,” Rhett gasps, twisting his torso as much as he can from side to side with Link on top of him to try and unseat the toy, mainly because he’s finding the feeling of being restrained so paradoxically freeing. Link’s hands come down to press on Rhett’s shoulders, flatten him back to the bed; Rhett shivers all over with a strange feeling of - release, almost. Freedom, but not. 

“Does that make sense, now?” Link asks, easing off of holding Rhett down to trail feather light fingers over Rhett’s neck like he had in the office. It isn’t until he says Rhett’s name again, more firmly, that Rhett remembers there’d been a question. 

“Yes, yes,” Rhett manages. The addition of Link touching him to the continuous skipping circles of the toy has made it nearly impossible for Rhett to concentrate on anything except where he’s being touched. The pattern is - not tickling, not quite; though it makes Rhett’s muscles jump at each pass, the rhythm of it is almost building towards something. Clench and release, clench and release. Rhett imagines being left here like this, tied up with just this stimulation, and the first moan shivers out through his choppy laughter. They start to cascade after that. Link’s tracing his fingers down Rhett’s sides, around his nipples, even up and down his arms, and each time he leans to be able to reach, it introduces even more friction into the equation. Some part of Rhett knows that he must be hard, that Link’s grinding against him, but mostly he’s light headed from not getting a full breath and caught up in sensation and each shuddering drag courses through every taut muscle.

Rhett’s twitching and aching all over when half of the sensation disappears just like that. It takes him a long moment of blinking and sucking down air to realizes that Link’s lifted up the still-spinning toy and is fiddling with it, though it hasn’t stopped the rocking of his hips at all. Rhett’s mouth is dry when he manages to catch Link’s eyes, and it’s not just from all the gasping; Link’s pupils are wide, dark, and there’s a flush on Link’s cheeks that Rhett wishes he could reach up and touch. He’s just about worked up both the saliva and the bravery to ask for Link to lean down and kiss him before the steady spinning of the toy in Link’s hands switches directions. They both cut their eyes to it.

“I think I can get you off from this,” Link says finally, breaking the silence. He’s not smiling at Rhett anymore, is surveying him with something sharp and - and _mean_.

“Okay,” Rhett says, but it’s - soft, nervous. Link lowers one hand to trace of Rhett’s chest too deliberately to tickle, but Rhett jumps anyways.

“It’s gonna hurt,” Link goes on, eyes half-closing as his touch turns to nails scraping down Rhett’s pecs. It doesn’t hurt, or at least, it’s not bad, but combined with Link’s words it’s enough to have Rhett whimpering a bit without meaning to.

“Okay,” he repeats, even more softly. Link transfers his weight to the hand now resting on Rhett’s sternum slowly, drives the air out of him in the name of leaning down to claim a kiss. 

“Okay,” Link echoes, teeth glinting. He sits back up, and before Rhett can draw a breath, places his hand over Rhett’s mouth and nose. The toy is replaced on Rhett’s ribs a few inches lower than it’d been before, its path now jittering through Rhett’s happy trail and making his entire belly jump at each pass. Rhett tries to breathe in to gasp but can’t, is left staring up at Link with wide eyes, disbelieving.

“Ten seconds,” Link tells him, voice level. “You can shake me off if you need to. Five seconds. Hold it.” Rhett’s ashamed his lungs are already starting to twinge when Link pulls his hand away. He gasps in a shuddering breath that doesn’t nearly sate the burn and then Link’s tickling him in earnest and Rhett slams his eyes shut as the room spins. He’s dizzy - his extremities are buzzing - he’s hyperventilating, definitely, at least after a minute of this torture. It’s - it does hurt, now, everything clenching and releasing and his wrists burning from the twisting he’s doing in the restraints, but the physical sensations of it all are starting to get - less sharp, somehow more cohesive. With Rhett’s eyes closed, all of the lurching sensations are swirling together into something more, a mess of feelings while what self-consciousness he hasn’t been able to shake throughout the evening drops further and further away.

Link’s talking, Rhett knows, a low litany of numbers that doesn’t make sense until Rhett realizes he’s covering Rhett’s mouth and nose again. 

“That’s it,” he says when Rhett finally gets to choke in a breath. “God, Rhett, you’re doing amazing. Can you hold your breath one more time for me, baby? Can you give me your color?”

Rhett’s chest is heaving unevenly, he can’t tear his eyes open, and it takes him a solid ten seconds to realize what Link’s asking then to make up his mind. 

“Green,” he manages. “I-I can, I can - ”

“You can hold it for me?”

Rhett nods, unable to spare any more breath, and Link strokes over his cheek gently. 

“Good, good Rhett. When I tell you, okay?”

Rhett’s still nodding when Link starts to slide backwards down the bed, dismounting Rhett’s hips. Immediately Rhett misses the weight, and the warmth, and the friction, but then Link’s opening Rhett’s with those clever fingers and his waistband’s being tugged down so that the toy’s arms are lower still. 

If Rhett had any fully firing brain cells right now, they’d all be focused on Link’s hand wrapping deftly around Rhett’s dick like he’s done this a thousand times and holding it loosely enough to be of no relief. As it is, the sole thought in Rhett’s mind is being prepared for Link’s cue. 

“Are you ready, baby?” Link asks. Rhett nods frantically. “I’m going to count backwards from three, and you’re going to hold your breath for me on one. Three - two - ”

The air Rhett tries to suck in on _one_ is released in a frantic gasp the next heartbeat when warm, wet heat engulfs the head of his cock; when it pulls away a second later Rhett has to bear down to stop himself gasping for breath. There’s barely anything left inside him besides this aching, twitching _need_ , and he doesn’t know if it’s to breathe or to come.

A cold, shocking, terrible stream of air practically burns as it hits the wet skin on the sensitive underside of Rhett’s cock. His lungs ache. Link twists his hand once, twice, and then he’s saying, “Okay, Rhett, go ahead - ” and before he can finish telling Rhett to breathe Rhett’s hissing between his teeth as he comes. 

The tickle fingers disappear before the orgasm is done, and one of Link’s hands comes up to rest warm and soothing against Rhett’s screaming abs. 

“That’s it, good gosh, look at you - ”

Rhett swims in and out of focus as Link moves around. It’s a wild relief when Link manually moves Rhett’s arms to be by his sides after uncuffing him, then does the same for his legs, talking all the while. Every inch of Rhett is aching, his back’s going to need some serious tlc, and he’s distantly nauseated from swallowing as much air as he must have, but as Link starts to stroke through Rhett’s hair, all Rhett can focus on is… this radiating contentment, almost _pride._ It’s buoyed by the praise Link’s still murmuring, and Rhett sinks deeper into it.

Later he’ll have to contend with the soreness, with struggling not to let himself be embarrassed, with the fact that there’s come all over his jeans.

But for now, Rhett enjoys what Link’s given him and doesn’t worry - doesn’t think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me at egocentrifuge dot tumblr dot com for more fic, conversation, and commission info (soon at least lol)


End file.
